And So The Tide Turns
by Troublesome Dragon
Summary: Hey, this is Alfred. So here's the deal. I'm kinda screwed. I procrastinated on the whole help Europe thing, and now, I have to deal with the consequences. Never thought in a million years I'd be hanging out with the Axis. And get this, they gave me England so long as I stay neutral. Yeah, wish me luck with that.
1. Join Us da

_Even peace may be purchased at too high a price. _

_Benjamin Franklin_

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><p>Join us da<p>

Impossible, how fantastic, Britain lost. Well, I knew things weren't going all that well. I did let him buy some munitions from me. Damn. I'm not getting that money back. Now, I'm stuck having peace talks with Russia. FDR told me to play nice since he's buddy buddy with Stalin or Uncle Joe as he says. I love him, but I really don't want to do this. Not that I have much of a choice, I have to consider it since we're not ready for war. Matt's not comfortable with this either, but he hasn't said whether or not he'll back me up if it does come to a fight. So, I'm waiting, and it's taking forever for him to get here. Stalin and the boss are talking already so he has to be in the building. The door opens, and here comes the guy with a sandwich from my fridge. The first thing I notice is he's tall. It makes me want to stand up, but I know that could be seen as weak so I stick to my seat. The next thing is that he doesn't seem to feel the need to come across as intimidating. He's smiling, but somehow I can feel the friction underneath in the way his violet eyes look me over.

"Hello America, I stopped by for a snack since I knew we'd be talking for a very long time," the guy explained, taking the seat I put on the other side of the table and positioning it next to me. I really need to stop deliberately distancing myself from people, not that England taught me otherwise. Arthur. . . I can't really say I regret staying out of it, but as your brother, I'm sorry you're in some deep shit.

"What makes you think this will take a while," He's acting like I've already agreed, and I have not. This side of the globe isn't conquered yet, and I'm not looking to be intimidated. My arms are crossed, and I attempt a glare. He's oblivious to the enmity, and continues to eat his sandwich or rather my sandwich if I'm being technical. It gives me time to size him up, not that I can't take him eventually, but there's also Germany, Japan, and to a lesser extent Italy (Mostly because he seems like a total whimp). White hair or blond maybe, it's like snow which I guess makes sense, and he's still wearing clothes made to withstand a blizzard. Isn't he hot in those things?

"Because, America, I volunteered to see you comrade, but I get the feeling you did not really want to see me," Ivan said, after a few bites. So, he's more perceptive than I give him credit for. His answer lets me know one thing for sure. The face he's pulling is fake and insincere. He's probably been told to play nice too. I definitely don't trust him, and it's just not because he's helped take down some former allies and with Britain I use the term loosely. There's also the implication that he's not leaving until we agree on something.

"I simply want everyone to get along," The ideals Woodrow Wilson inspired haven't left me, but half the worlds conquered, I don't want to be next. He clamps his hand on my shoulder and laughs. The grips iron clad and fills me with dread. I don't want these hands permanently chaining me.

"You're quite the optimist America," Ivan again gives an evaluative look. The kind I have discerned from many people I used to trust as this kid should be easy pickings. No one said that after they were through dealing with me. I can give out as much hell as they can.

"I think we could be good friends," Russia's grip hasn't loosened, and I interpret the word "friend" differently as a result.

"What do you want from me? I guarantee you that I'm no push over," Although it's down right rude to say, I do make sure to stick to the speak softly and carry a big stick rule in this case. My face isn't overly hostile, and I grin foolishly as I say it. It sounds more like I'm bragging. Ivan laughs again, and I hate that I can feel his chest move up and down from how tightly he's held onto me.

"You misunderstand. We're offering you England," What? My brain freezes up. That makes no sense. It's not like I helped them, quite the opposite. Albeit, I didn't get in the way either. My supposed brother begged me to join the war-no way. He's the one who taught me my people come first after all. It's why he taxed me so long ago to ease the burden on the crown. He could have at least listened to me, but there wasn't a choice. Although I really don't want war, I personally loved toying with the idea because I could. Teach him that I can be stubborn too. Admittedly, I feel guilty about his current circumstances, but my people don't. They don't want to fight so I can't anyway. I'm a country, and my personal feeling are just that, personal. My only hope for such intervention would have been Teddy, but it seems he and Stalin have a lot in common. By now, it's too little too late. He really must hate me now. Arthur's bound to hear about this eventually, assuming they let him hear anything at all.

"Why?" I can't hide the surprise this time. It's too soon, especially since I find myself wanting to take it. There's a chance my boss already took the deal. He's not particularly for our neutrality stance. He really and I mean really wanted to help. Congress had to block him with the neutrality act, good old three branch system, almost fool proof.

" We'd all like access to your oil reserves while we settle business with our new lands," That's not too bad. I didn't go through with bothering Japan about it although it annoyed me when he went imperialistic.

"What else?" There had to be another catch. Russia went right back to his sandwich. The anticipation is killing me, and I hate that he took my sandwich _**. **_

"Simple, don't interfere in Europe or Asia, and we'll leave you alone. You're already in favor of this, da?" My government and people say yes, and my president is sending me mixed signals. He did want to help England. Hell, I want to help England too. This way I don't have to fight at all. My silence must have sent the wrong message.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't love to have him under your thumb for once?" Ivan still smiled, but the whole room seemed to darken. I swear I also heard him mutter the word kill a few times too. No . . . well, I kinda do love the irony of it. I'm in charge of him now, if I say yes. Who am I kidding? I get to stay neutral, save him and still get the money England owes me.

"That's not really my style. I don't want to be a hypocrite after all, but I think I'm ready to make a deal with you," I said, and it still sounded off, despite seeming good. Ivan finally unhanded my shoulders. I breathed deeply, accidentally revealing that the hold had affected me quite a bit. I sported the goofy grin from earlier. I noted it tended to make situations like this more tolerable. I think I pull off the big but naive look quite easily. Ivan bought it, and so, we began to draft some papers. I paused at one particularly condition.

_No aid is to be given to any remaining opposition. _

My brother, I wished he'd given me more of an indication of what he planned to do now. It would kill me a little to see him go the way of England because Arthur asked. Of course, Canada had declared war separately so it's not like he was blameless for anything that might happened to him. I respected his choice so I hope he respects mine. Sorry Matt, I sticking to my neutrality policy. Hope you're not stupid about this.

"I did expect a bit more trouble from you," Ivan admitted once they were done. Mostly, I fretted over Japan spreading war in the east. They'd talked about helping China with some funds, but I'm barely in a position to help myself as far as equipments concerned. I might have Matt and Mexico behind me, but even if the Axis power's oil reserve is low, with England conquered, it's not anymore. Besides, we're surrounded. It's not in my best interest to care about China right now.

"I'm flexible so long as you leave me out of it," Surprisingly, I didn't have too many restrictions or obligations put on me. I expected our possible agreement to have a lots of strings attached, and for me, to politely turn it down. However, everything was fairly reasonable, and I found myself more accepting of the proposal than planned. I didn't expect to walk away with responsibility of England originally that's for sure. It was almost as nice a surprise as the Louisiana purchase, almost. Only demilitarizing England concerned me from the list as it meant scraping those beautiful fighter planes(Oh well, I'm still making my own anyway. The contract doesn't say I can't.), among other uncomfortable duties which included informing Arthur of his terms. I'm going to put up a few rules, just a few. He has to listen now. Otherwise I'm worried about being unable to help Matt should he decide to press forward. I shouldn't. Matt's the expert at avoiding conflict. After all, he asked for independence nicely, and England actually said yes. I like to think I wore Arthur down though, for him to even consider it. No one's free these days. Deep down, it bothers me, but the hear no evil, speak no evil and see no evil approach has worked for me so far. I'm not strong enough to worry about anyone else's freedom right now. My people are what matter. Family has a habit of stabbing you in the back, even Matt burned down my white house once under Arthur's behest.

"Or perhaps we are more alike than you'd like to think," Ivan said, and he had that look again. I finally caught on that it wasn't a look of conquest as I'd know before but of recognition. He knows what I'm capable of under these cheery blue eyes of mine. The blond farm boy fresh from his colonial day's act wouldn't work on this guy. This guy might end up being more of a crack on my liberty bell than Britain ever was.

"I'm not. I just know a good deal when I see one," I'm only looking out for myself. That doesn't make me bad. England only asked for my assistance because he was still used to getting it. It's expected, but this time he couldn't effectively pressure me as he had tried with his long stipend with France. Russia nodded, but from his countenance I could see he didn't believe it. The familiarity of the look annoyed me. Pretty much telling me, you can lie to yourself all you want, but we're stuck with each other.

"I expect we shall meet again soon," Ivan said as he headed out the door. I stared down at the document. A line had escaped my notice before, nothing alarming like a tricky clause, more of a friendly reminder at the bottom.

_Japan will be coming to see you soon, Comrade.__ Do make up. _

_ Ivan _

_ P.s. Give me a Sunflower on next visit._

Well, Ivan seemed the definition of untrustworthy to me. So, Japan didn't seem all that evil at all in comparison. I'll give it my best effort.

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><p><em>A peace is of the nature of a conquest; for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser. <em>

_William Shakespeare_

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><p><em>You so don't have to read this but this is the logic behind what I have written so far. <em>

_Okay, this came into my head a little while ago, and after reading a bit on it. My idea seems plausible through a couple of what if scenarios._

_One, America did not input an embargo on Japan, straining our relations with the Japanese. They never attacked us. No joining the fray and helping in the pacific. _

_Two, although the war is what ultimately strengthened the US to become a superpower, it is still a considerably huge landmass, and I imagine making nice would have been preferable. That and Canada and Mexico would have helped us if they had invaded. Based on Canada's ties with Britain, it might have been angered by U.S. decision to harmonize with the Axis, but I think Canada would be wise enough to follow instead of spur ahead on its own. _

_Three, I have Russia never joining the allies. This is based on Hitler not invading Russia and breaching their previous agreement. _

_This leaves England, France, and China to defend themselves. Spelling out doom, and this ironic predicament. _

_Four, FDR apparently admired Stalin greatly. So with England out for the count, we might have been willing to negotiate a pact. _

_Five: Most of South America stayed neutral and had previous ties with Axis although pressure from the U.S. had them declare war formally. Without America pressuring them, I doubt they would hold ill will towards the Axis. _

_Impossible? Maybe. _

_Here's the other side of the argument. _

_Apparently, Germany and Italy would have been low on oil at this point but without an embargo Japan wasn't. Britain while at it's wits end was still holding on as it had a superior navy, and Germany failed to dominate the sky before shifting objectives. It's focus had moved to invading Russia that it perceived to be more of a threat. Russia and Germany were destined for a power struggle as they both wanted to be the ultimate power house and ideologically were mismatched. Part of the reason, Germany betrayed Russia in the first place. So, it's a toss up. _

_This idea wants out. Let me know what you think or if I miss anything blatantly obvious I might want to consider._


	2. Thank You and Damn You

_Hatred, slavery's inevitable aftermath._

_JOSÉ MARTÍ, Woman Suffrage_

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><p>Thank you and Damn you<p>

I, Alfred Freedom Jones, (Okay, so originally, it was Fredrick.) have made some progress with Japan. Me and the boss were this close to ruining that earlier with the whole embargo thing (Still uncomfortable with the whole Indonesia affair), but with the new agreement I made with the Axis, I do not want to be stuck with Russia as my best buddy. So, I called Japan and invited him to come over some time. We scheduled for him to stop by next week on Friday. I would have normally pushed to have it happen sooner, but even I know better than to expect Arthur to be happy about his current circumstances. So, I'm off to England.

I can't sit still during the plane ride, as I keep rehearsing what I need to say to him. Never mind, I know somehow we will slip into a familiar pattern. He'll yell at me because it's his gut reaction and how things used to be. I can't let it, and it hurts that we can't keep pretending everything's fine. He's damn good at it though, very careful to set out the image that life's going on as usual in England. Except, it's not; England's a wreck. London's practically rubble as we pass through it, and although it's not the only casualty, I find myself on edge from knowing his heart is so cracked . I knew all these things, but it's different compared to seeing pictures (The ones I could find) as I smell the decay, see the ashen faces of people peering at me. To top it off, the people don't seem particularly distraught. The English mentality of keep calm and carry on is still going strong. German Soldiers seem to be at every corner ignored, just another day in England.

"The soldiers?" I ask the German ambassador because England is supposed to be my territory after all. They better not be causing trouble, not the kind I heard about. I'm still not sure the rumors are true(The evidence is shaky at best, and it's not like overblown propaganda like this hasn't spread before.), but I don't want that sort of thing effecting England if I can help it.

"You will need time to bring your own soldiers in and illicit order," The ambassador reminded me, and it's true, at least a year or two. Germany's spread pretty thin so he is probably going to want his troops out of England as soon as possible. Once the ground rules are established, I'll be more than happy to withdraw my soldiers anyway.

"Right, I want to be debriefed on _all _activities," I gave him a meaningful look which was ultimately ignored as he handed me even more paper work. Whatever, it's something to do while I wait for the town car to reach England's place.

I honestly expected the place to be as trashed with debris as the rest, but it's been cleaned, impeccably so. If I hadn't seen the surrounding area, I wouldn't have garnered a guess that anything was wrong. The soldiers surrounding the gates ruined this effect to an extent. The German ambassador approached first while I stayed in the limo and chilled. Finally, after a brief explanation to the troops, the gates were opened, and I bothered getting out of my seat. They acknowledged me with a slight bow of their heads and a mutter of Mit Vergnügen Amerika. Tausend Dank I answered back as I walked pass. Since this is one of the rare occasions I stepped out my country for any length of time or visited London for that matter, I decided to remain cordial. No use ruining my mystique by running in and calling Arthur at the top of my lungs, not when England had a heavy amount of German troops in the area.

"This way," he said, leading me into England's living room where he sat in his chair honoring his afternoon tea ritual.

"That will be all," I told the ambassador. That was that, he left, and I'm here waiting for England to speak first for old times sake. I don't hear him say a word until he's finished his tea.

"Look who finally decided to show up," England prattled. He's not particularly mad or happy, simply tired. It's a statement of fact. I keep myself from divulging in a wise crack. I'm here on business among other things.

I don't answer him, looking him over instead. I can't see the bruises and cuts underneath that must be there, but there are smaller signs. His hair is disheveled even wilder than usual, matted, and the blond streaks shine with grease. His suit is wrinkled, unpressed for who knows how long. Less obvious is the chip in the tea cup on the table and how the Brit freezes when he hears a plane passing by.

"Are you okay?" I know he's not, but it's a good a start as any. He flinches before forcing himself to relax. There is a small hitch in his throat. The answers is painfully obvious. It was the wrong thing to say.

"Why are you here America? I can't pay you back at the moment. In case your thick skull hasn't noticed, there are German soldiers outside my door," he said, growing steadily more cross as he continues, practically belting out the end. It hurts a little that's what he thinks of me, but it gives me an idea_._

"Would you like them to leave?" I ask which has the Englishman sputter the beginnings of words. He also waved his arms around as the pent up frustration focused on me. I'm getting used to it.

"How did you turn out so stupid? I read you the bloody works Shakespeare and gave you a damn good education. You don't honestly expect asking nicely will work do you?" The vexation ebbed to pure disbelief someone could be that thick. I'm going to enjoy this. Signaling him to follow, I approached the soldiers outside and dismissed them. There was a moment of pause. My heart skipped a beat. Perhaps I didn't have as much jurisdiction here as I was led to believe. They followed with a resounding Ja, and left, most likely to another post. I turned around so I wouldn't miss the look on Britain's face. He's flabbergasted and staring at me with respect I never expected as well as a thick suspicion. I might as well have plastered the German flag on my forehead. This is forgotten as he precariously walks over to the empty gates and gently wraps his hands over the bars and begins to shake. I can hear the sobs, and I forgo the detached manner that I've been upholding. I can't stand it anymore. No one is putting a gun to my head yet. I'm allowed to feel something, dammit. I embrace him, and he holds onto the bars even tighter, trying hard to steady his breathing. I attempt to ease his grip on the bars by slowly unlatching them with my fingers. England regains enough composure to push me away. Reigning in my previous want to comfort him, I take a few steps back.

"Damn you America, did you join them?" England says, spitting on the ground at my feet. Not exactly, I've made allowances for their presence while making some money on the side. Even so, England's almost spot on as to why I'm here. Britain grabs the cuff of my collar; it reminds me of a child's grip in it's lack of force. I remember when he could pull me off the ground and throw me into the river without a second thought.

"What about your brother?" he yells. Matt, I haven't heard bad news, but I haven't heard good news either. I've written him a formal letter in French begging him to follow my lead. His government might not be so keen on it, but I'll do everything in my power to keep the peace and lure Matthew over to my view point. I know how to be manipulative when I want to be. I don't answer as what I have to say isn't much of a comfort, and England needs to blow off some steam.

"Do you ever think?" he asks, and the numerous grievances we've had over the years are tied into that question. Well, it's my turn to be the hard ass.

"Shut up," I say. He's not expecting that. As he notices just how much taller and more muscled I've gotten, there's a split second of fear evident in his green eyes as they widen accordingly. I hate that. I think that I'll take a page from the native population on this one, keep calm and carry on.

"Come inside and make some tea Arthur," I tell him, nudging him forward. Every other second, my eyes dart to his face seeking the anger that's bound to be there. The shock of the moment is gone, and he has abandoned any notion of anger in favor of normalcy. My very presence here disrupts that as I note he's stealing as many glances of me as I do of him. He goes to the kitchen and starts to brew a pot.

I sit down, trying way too hard to shift into a position that is both comfortable and serious. Eventually, he comes in with two cups of tea.

"You missed tea time," he said, completely ignoring the last hour.

"We need to talk," I have a feeling that I will grow to loathe that phrase. I hear it too often already.

"Go ahead, lad," It was a clumsy attempt at affection, and I kinda wished he'd snap at me instead.

"Well, um, you're kind of mine now," That sounded wrong, but it was out of my mouth. Britain very wisely managed to down the tea that nearly exploded from his mouth.

"Are you daft? We weren't the one's fighting each other this time nitwit," Britain snapped at me. Is he still being bullheaded about the anti-American sentiment? That was so nineteenth century. Patience, Alfred, it's in you somewhere.

"I kinda found myself in a tough spot. Forgive me Arthur. I did it for you and for myself. They came knocking on my door with half of Europe dead behind them." The tea which I could usually down in one fell swoop, sloshed in my mouth, lukewarm. I'm not sure how much of it is tea. With as much self confidence as I could usually muster, it did not mean that I wasn't aware of what could happen to me, and it had all been so easy.

"You honestly expect me to be your bloody dominion?" England hissed. The hand which held his tea trembled. No doubt he wanted to use that pent up force on me. Luckily, he's much too tired for that. I know it, and I'll make sure he does as well.

"You don't have a choice." I state firmly and put down the papers. England's hand reached tentatively for them as if he knew the papers would sting him at the slightest provocation.

"You can look that over later. I'll tell you the big things that are going to make you want to throw your tea in my face, but first you have to understand something," My casual tone dropped, and I cleaned my glasses before facing him. My eyes narrowed, and I cleared my throat to prepare for the change in tactics.

"Hate me, I don't care, but please remember living with Germany is your other option. I'm doing you a favor." I put a hand on his shoulder, and there was defiance on his face this time which I found quite awkward. I'm supposed to be the liberator after all. I'll get to it, eventually. My face wasn't much better as it had a hard edge. I was dead serious.

" I live here, America" England attempted to make the statement absolute. I, however, knew that this procedure had been done many times before.

"I'm not crossing the Atlantic every time we have something to discuss. Your prime minister can come to us if he needs something," The tone's snappish and forceful. England's pride wouldn't allow me to slip into my usual gun ho self. He needed to know there wasn't a choice to any of this.

"First off, you will be paying me back once your back on your feet, because despite what you may tell yourself, I am not an idiot," Taking my hand from his shoulder, I held up my thumb to start counting off my demands and leaned forward in my chair to give it grander effect.

"America, I didn't mean," England struggled to keep his decorum as he remembered that his people were known for manners. Not that I minded, people misjudged me all the time, and with England, the snide remarks had become obligatory. He put the cup down, and I cut him off before he went on some tangent about the past.

"Second, they only gave me control of _England _so don't expect to be called Great Britain anymore," This, at least, I hoped was obvious. England wasn't all there as he looked up from the spot on the floor he'd been staring at.

"What?" he said rather listlessly. Apparently not.

" You knew this was coming, frankly you were pushing it. You can barely take care of yourself as it is," I let myself show a little concern, and I found myself patting him on the back.

"I suppose there's nothing you can do about it," he said with a sigh. Arthur shrank into the chair. He took it better than expected.

"Trust me, I would be pushing for you to disband them anyway. It's not healthy," I had learned how much of a pain colonies could be from my spat with Spain some time ago when I received the Philippines, Guam and Puerto Rico. I wondered how Arthur had managed half the continent alone.

"I didn't realize you cared so much," It sounded bitter, but he should take it hard. It's kind of a slap in the face that I have to do this, but it's not the worst thing. The next thing had been fairly controversial, but as long as we had some say in the matter, FDR decided to give me the go ahead.

"Third, I'm making you get rid of the monarchy" I said it quickly like when I had to admit to FDR that I'd broken a vase or something.

"Oh, in hell you are," He stood, giving me a look that used to make me cower in fear when I was little. Frankly, I'm tired of being patient. I pushed him back down to his seat, leaving him dumbfounded.

"Sit down, England. I'm talking," We were stuck with each other for a while, and I was done putting up with backhanded remarks. I have way too much on my plate as it is.

"They're a waste of your resources, and you need to be paying me back anyway," I said, and I kind of regretted it when Arthur's face fell. He didn't like depending on others, and I was being as much of a jackass as his brothers were. The wounded creature look didn't stay long on England's face, and he was right back to yelling at me.

"America if you're going to be such a brat, I'll kick you out right now," he said his whole body shaking from the pent up tension. I put both of my hands on his shoulders, enough of that.

"Calm down, I'm here to help you," I did mean that. I just want to make things better. So what if I want to make things a whole lot better, I'm right. He's just to shaken up to see it.

"You're about as helpful as Russia," He's looking down at the tea cup with disdain that's actually aimed at my reflection. It struck a nerve after yesterday. I'm nothing like him.

"Take that back," I bellow out. It doesn't phase him this time.

"No," he said, taking another sip. Same old England, after all these years, I forget how much I can't stand him.

"You know what forget it. I'll let my boss handle it. I don't want to deal with you," I hope negotiations actually haven't broken down, and it's just me that screwed up. Why can't I ever just get things right the first time? No one ever seems able to stand me as long as Canada can. This is different. I wanted some sign things between us might end up in some sort of truce. I'm used to the insults by now, but we were family once, and he's nipping at my heels like a wounded animal.

"Alfred," he said, and it reminds me of how he would have a change of heart after our constant bickering over taxes, freedom, and foreign relations- for a few hours at least. The parallels I draw worry me. I don't' want to be the Britain.

" I, at least expected you to be civil, but you're petty and not half as together as your people are. You're not the brother I remember," He's crying again, and I see blood stain his shirt where I undoubtedly pressed too hard. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have done that. Idiot.

"Fine, you can keep your stupid monarchy," I said finally. It's tough losing a boss, and it would be like England to refuse to move forward.

"I don't care about that right now you stupid git," he said in between sobs.

"So I can?" I asked, knowing that he's probably not that out of his mind yet.

"No, but of course, I am your bloody brother. " That word hadn't been uttered in well over a century. I felt my growing anxiety ease. This wasn't going to be a completely miserable experience. He slapped my shoulder, and it didn't have the sting it used to. I wrapped my arm around him, careful not to exhibit as much force as Russia had on me.

"Where's the first aid kit?" No response. Breaking free of my arm, he sauntered over to his bathroom. I followed him in case he collapsed or something. He slammed the door. Translation, I don't need you.

He came out with his jacket and shirt folded neatly in his hands. The largest bandage spread across his chest, smaller cuts could be seen healing. I dared to touch one such cut.

"Countryside?" I asked, filling in the rest pretty easily. England nodded. I withdrew my hand as England sighed.

"You're not actually letting me keep the monarchy are you?" he restated.

"The current monarch can rule for a term, and then you can do elections," I tried appeasing him this way.

"How long would the term be?" England asked.

"You decide," The hands off approach should work as long as he thinks it's his idea.

"A hundred years," Arthur stated dryly.

"England," I whined as I followed him downstairs.

"I'll discuss things with my own boss later America. At least, you're not being moody anymore," England said, returning to his chair.

"I was being serious," I said which caused England to smirk.

"Okay then, besides making everything go all to pot, why else did you come? Did you miss me?" He's leaning forward and reading my eyes which aren't totally in actor mode. I'm fidgeting and blinking too much. I didn't miss the stupid scones and stuff.

"I think you need a nap. You're being all sentimental and weird" I felt myself getting flustered by the comment. Not that I've thought about back then, I've been mostly alone for a hundred years. Well there's my bosses too, but the point is I didn't need any other country. All they ever did was fight with me. Except Canada, Matt's always just kind of there.

"Come now, America. We've spent years avoiding this conversation. It's happening, unless you want us at each others throats for however long you're planning on making me your lap dog," Arthur's being a hostile ninny again. I'm going to end up giving him another giant loan when he hasn't even paid the first one off, and I'm the evil one.

"It's not like that. I was worried" It's true. Arthur's not as young as he used to be, and he's surrounded by the rest of downtrodden conquered Europe under Germany's and Russia's rule.

"But not enough to lift a damn finger,"He definitely blames me. I'm one of his only former kid's that didn't help, and he's always expected more from me, because I'm one of the few he treated more like an actual child than property, for_ a while _at least. I have a feeling he's never going to let this go.

"Arthur, don't be like that,"I begged. Fine with regressing a little while we didn't have pressing business to attend to, I did make the poor guy bleed out. It's the least I can do.

"Oh, it's Arthur now is it? I remember it being Red Coat, eyebrows, and to borrow from France, the black sheep of Europe," I was quite chummy with France for a while before the first reign of Terror, and I became even less enthused after the second one.

"Don't pretend when it comes down to it. You wouldn't leave me to take care of my own mess," I could see in his stance the complicated answer. Now, he wouldn't, a while before, yes, but it would have cost me a lot and not just in debt.

"And yet you're here. I can't help but feel it's too rub it in," So, I enjoyed the idea a little bit. It's not like I'm planning to make his life a living hell. Russia and Germany would be so much worse, and he knows it. It's why despite the crying fest. We'd actually started a somewhat pleasant conversation. Sort of, he's still yelling at me, but he doesn't really meant it as much.

"You know, I was going to flat out refuse Russia until they offered you up," I said. Flattery gets you everywhere.

"Just because of me? I doubt it," He feigned being touched by the sentiment before becoming snarky. Huh, typical.

"Okay, I also was covering my own butt," I admitted, and he seemed well enough to continue poking me, in my supposedly flabby stomach. It's actually rock hard. High metabolism rocks.

"So nice, I rank just below your butt," he said. I groaned. This is annoying.

"England, is there anything that would make you less of a sourpuss right now?" I muttered. The blond crossed his arms, putting on confident airs.

"Say Engwand," Arthur waited. I'm having none of that. The day I revert to my colonial ways again is the day Russia becomes my best friend.

"No," I'm purposely keeping it light. It helps me avoid feeling like a sack of crap about earlier.

"Say it," He's more mischievous than usual, like he knows I won't try anything right this minute. I give him too much credit. Besides, Arthur's much more reasonable than I am. He'll stop eventually, even if I wouldn't.

"No," I said with the same "Go eat a scone" face.

"Say it,"Maybe, he is where I get it from. Some of those memories are kinda blurry for me. I'm sure I blocked out a couple of things.

"No, I'm not calling you Engwand," Stupid Freudian slip. Worse, I can't keep from going red. England's laughing his ass off.

"Oh, you're _so _going to be total democracy when I'm done with you," I threaten, but much like the rest of England, he's still going on.

* * *

><p><em>Willingly no one chooses the yoke of slavery.<em>

_AESCHYLUS, Agamemnon_

Translations

Mit Vergnügen (With pleasure)

Tausend Dank (Thanks a million)

Ja-(Aye)


	3. It's a start

_Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence._

_George Washington _

* * *

><p>It's a start<p>

"I don't see why you need to go reinventing the wheel," England said while I read the paper and ignored him. I had good reasons for changing things around in England. While every government run by Germany or Russia selectively tore down the original structure, I was just modifying and fortifying it for the common good. Not that he understood that much, I might as well be a kid with construction paper and glue assorting random pieces together. On the bright side, he looked better, not instantly healthy but at least he could dress himself in the fashion he preferred and stay clean. Also, upon our arrival, he'd made himself right at home; speaking of which, this is not what I drink.

"I asked for Coffee," One simple thing, it's not like I had a lot of housework to hand out to the Brit. The New Deal while sometimes questionable in its policies offered most of the work to my boys. Most of it wasn't overly complicated, heck, sometimes the men would enthusiastically sweep the same spot over and over, grateful to at least be working. Some might say the whole thing was more of a band aid on the economy, but like most of my people, I was grateful FDR was trying something. Lately, I've been moving more and more of them to build up weapons secretly.

For defense, honestly, there are only two reasons I ever go to war, usually, let's not get into my whole hero complex as other countries so aptly put it. One, I really want something, Texas comes to mind. The other and more forceful reason is to defend myself, and although I doubt Japan will set his sights on me while he gradually overtakes a disorganized China. (The two political parties can't stop bickering enough to stop him.) Russia is a whole other matter. He's very presence means trouble. If he becomes interested in a country, it rarely ends well. I can relax a little while he's still in the process of reorganizing his troops and weapons. Besides, Germany's tired so I won't be the first target. I'm an ocean away, yet lately, it doesn't seem far enough.

"I can either make bad coffee or good tea, your choice," He has his hands on his hips, and I can see he is trying to be nice in the way he doesn't tack on the word git or idiot. The talks while sometimes headache inducing had gone well. A generous sum was given to the monarchy to retire quietly, and Winston Churchill would over see things while reconstruction began. I'd given him the check earlier today for such things. The gesture had smoothed over Arthur's rapidly fluctuating temper that I've been a victim of since he arrived at my house. That and Arthur had a point. I do not want my precious coffee wasted.

"Fine, I'll drink it," The tea, while a reminder of things long since abandoned, tastes pretty good. Plenty of my people like it, I usually don't drink it to annoy Arthur more than anything. The honey helps.

" I can't believe I'm being Britanized," I mutter in faux annoyance, because it's a little like being home on holiday, familiar but strangely foreign from what I'm used to now.

"That's not a word America," Arthur rolls his eyes and grabs his own cup of tea. It's lovely that he thinks I don't know words just because I like to make them up. Funnily enough, he does the same thing.

"If I use it enough, it will become a word," I pretend like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and why didn't England think of it first. Arthur sighs as my acting prowess hits the mark.

"America, why must you be so damn persistent?" He said after a sip, and I let out a laugh because coming from him it means something. Half the world Arthur? Don't you remember? Or are you simply trying not to think of the difficulties you and your brothers face at the moment?

"Why didn't you stop kidnapping children after I turned out _so _badly? I must get it from someone, unless you want to try to say with a straight face I got it from France" Yes, France is the much more sensible one, infamous for failed trials. The fact he's under German rule at the moment takes the smile from my face momentarily. Arthur similarly focuses on his tea and withdraws.

"Never mind," We sit there drinking tea. It's odd yet somewhat endearing like the sort of bonding that we've failed to do since the old days, but enough of that sort of thing. Japan's coming over, any minute now. Things had been edgy with him, but with our continued trade, Kiku, while currently a militant country, spoke amicably about our visit on the phone. I'm looking forward to the meeting and showing him the cherry trees he gave me.

There is a soft knock on the door, and England gets up. Unsure if we will present gifts right away or not but wanting to be prepared, I take the the package on the table with me and follow England. He looks different which I should expect, but we haven't seen each other in so long (not face to face) I figured he would still be wearing a Yukata. The military uniform has the standard olive green hues and is stuck full of medals. My eyes trail to the small pin sporting Japan's Flag, country identifiers quickly becoming popular with governments. He has the same mid length hair cut and steady brown eyes, so that's something. We bow and shake hands simultaneously learning from last time to turn our heads away and avoid bumping heads. It's a deeper bow than I expected meaning my current contract with the Axis has smoothed some things over.

"Ohayogozaimasu," Japan acknowledged us both, much to England's discomfort from how he gave a quick bow and made his way to the kitchen, muttering something about cleaning up there. They hadn't seen each other since the first war from what I knew. (And, I may have something to do with why their alliance ended, not that it mattered now.) Japan showed some concern at England's quick retreat. Well, perhaps, that bridge hasn't burned completely yet.

"Gomen nasai, things are different now," I explained vaguely which earned a quick nod from Japan who returned his attention to me. I led us to the living room where we both sat with a quiet sort of detachment. Despite claims I had forced my way into Japan, (The black ships were the fastest way to get there.) the contract had proven beneficial to both of us. Lately, my government had made things difficult, actually that's a lie. They'd made our relations strained from the get go. For whatever reason, they were not comfortable with Japanese immigrants here, and well, Japan kept giving them passports to come.

"Yoroshiku onegai shimasu" he offered after we sat down.

"Doitashimashite," I replied automatically. There, that's about all the formality needed for this, and we both relaxed a little. Had anyone been there to witness it, they wouldn't have seen much of a change.

" Do not worry. I am used to England's ways, even if I still find them quite strange," he said and there was a small sigh. So, it isn't only me who wonders sometimes what that man actually wants.

"Yeah, he gets into moods,"I said, thinking of earlier this morning when he claimed to be talking to Menehune, a hawaiian creature, which wouldn't even be in this state. He came back with a snide remark that it would explain why my place is actually clean for once. Whatever England, he mentioned that his own imaginary friends haven't been in the mood to chat lately. He's probably just a little homesick.

"You are lucky to have been reunited with family. I hope to have China with me soon," Japan added, and I can't tell if there is anything sinister in the remark. All I can tell is that there is certainty in it, he knows that it's only a matter of time before he invades China's lands fully.

"Yeah that," I said in a dead pan manner, inadvisable for our current meeting, but Japan does not look affronted by it.

"He will come around, no matter what he has told you," Japan said curtly. Whatever times they have seen each other have obviously not gone well, I nod, knowing better than to start an argument about it now. Japan and Russia against me, after the whole opium fiasco (that I helped diffuse by the way), working together. A gruesome thought, I definitely do not want that.

"I have no intention of interfering Japan. You are my friend," Really, the man's tolerance was made to deal with someone like England and I. He didn't deserve some of my more exuberant demands, but well, if you could take it, do so as England always said. Japan looked flustered by the comment as we hadn't acted that way in quite a long time, Cherry trees aside. Now, Kiku retrieved a package from his bag, nicely decorated, like expected for these sort of exchanges. I'd learned from our last encounter when I hadn't bothered wrapping it, mine was just as nice this time.

"Kore douzo," he offered placing the gift on the table. Here came the tedious ritual of exchange.

"You didn't have to," I said, making sure to be quite taken by the small package like I'm supposed to.

"I insist America," Japan said pushing the package closer. I finally took it and placed mine in front of him.

"Tsumaranai mono desu ga, open it," He won't if I don't ask him to, and I want to open mine. He tended to bring candy, but once again, politeness indicates that I would still have to repackage the gift.

" You may open yours as well," Japan said, carefully unwrapping the gift. He held up a fine wine which wasn't three thousand cherry trees, but he seemed please enough with it, giving me a small smile.

"Thank you America ," he said, even if he wasn't much of a drinker, the expense spoke for itself. Kiku also had a tendency to warm up when drunk to an Italian degree, tomatoes did the same thing.

"Wow, thank you, I love the Pocky you brought last time. You know me really well," The candy had a different taste to it, and I couldn't find it easily here. My natural tendency to ramble helped in over exaggerating the value of it.

"It's nothing America," Japan insisted, and I took that as a cue that I'd reached the required graciousness for the procedure. The gift giving was a thoughtful way to improve relations, but I still preferred the spontaneity of just giving a gift because you wanted to. England and France's past gifts came to mind, but I tolerate it because it's Japan's way.

Gifts put away, we both sat again in the silence, which wasn't very silent as I could hear Arthur curse at something in the kitchen. Japan uncomfortably avoided looking in that area, and I planed to ignore it as well when I heard the words New Jersey Devil come up.

"Sumimasen, I need to check on that," I said as the sound of a frying pan hitting the counters became more prominent. Japan gave a quick nod of consent. When I came into the kitchen, the frying pan was waved dangerously close to my face.

"Blast it America, why are all your magical creatures so unfriendly?" he growled shaking his fist at an open window. He went through that much trouble? This is getting sad.

"Maybe because you keep insisting they exist," I said, making England scowl before realizing that I probably had other places to be. He attempted to shoo me away with his frying pan.

"Go on then, don't be rude to Japan," Arthur insisted, and I returned to the room without much prompting. Japan looked up with interest.

"Is Arthur all right?" Japan asked, wanting to go to the kitchen but unwilling to look rude. Manners are such a pain.

"Fine, he thought he saw something," I explained, and Japan's worry changed to another kind all together. He must be familiar with Arthur's sight then. Most people would have at least pretended to give him the benefit of the doubt by now, but I always found myself reluctant to except such things. No good came from that sort of fancy and made you vulnerable to superstition, something I got over in the sixteen hundreds. Before then, I . . . the meeting had come upon a lull. We'd dragged things along long enough.

"Is there something you'd like to discuss while you're here?" I asked allowing Japan to start things off. There wasn't much I wanted that I could get without war so there wasn't any point in bringing them up. Japan nodded meeting my gaze.

"I'd like you to open up Japanese immigration permanently," Japan said which put me on the spot. I found it hard for my people to agree on anything at times, but if anyone could manage it, Teddy could.

"Very well, I'll send word to my boss," This was pretty much code for I'll see what I can do for any country. Japan understood, and the hostility I expect to surface didn't.

"Yes, it's all we can do sometimes," Japan admitted which helped ease some of my anxiety on the matter. Japan took a deep breath, and I tensed expecting that he may continue demanding more.

"I'm relieved that nothing has soured between us. I was sure that after you interfered with the Indochina incident war was inevitable," Japan said, and I had to be very careful about my answer. Roosevelt wasn't a fool, and we did have a few troops already in England and Iceland, among other preparations, not nearly enough to face everyone however. Despite my general qualms on Japan's expansion, mostly, it was to help England possibly. I never say yes to anything unless I mean it, but never say no if I know there's a chance that it may become untrue later on, straying from this rule has made my life difficult, time and time again.

"As long as you don't attack me or this side of the globe, we won't have any problems. You've come a long way Japan. I'd hate to have to knock you down," And, I would if it came down to it. He stiffened, ruining the calm watery effect his presence generally pervaded. It sounded more like a threat than I realized.

"I'm only looking to take back my family," Japan said, but I couldn't help but think and their resources, like we all haven't done that once or twice. Still, I can't afford to be hostile, not unless I did want to ally with Russia if it came down to another war. I'm not that desperate yet.

"Yes, I know what that's like," From the other end of the spectrum, I'm the one who got attacked not the other way around. Luckily, Japan didn't notice the difference as I clearly had England in my grip at the moment.

"Of course, I shouldn't have said anything, gomen nasai," Japan said which led to more silence. Usually, I would prattle on about something or other, but the tension's still thick. We still don't agree, and Japan's attacks will eventually lead close to home.

"I'd like to show you the cherry trees. They're everywhere here," Not true, but they did brighten up the road ways and monuments along the city. Japan and I both stood, going outside so we could avoid the stifling environment within. We aren't quite on the same page, but we are getting there.

"Sorry about the first batch," Japan echoed the phrase from our previous exchange. I remember Taft being mortified at having to burn the gift, but there were safety issues to consider. Japan was the one who felt embarrassed and sent and extra thousand in the second batch.

"No problem. Things may not have started out that well, but they are blooming beautifully," I said which I hoped went much farther than cherry trees. After, Japan's a great friend to have.

* * *

><p><em>He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.<em>

_Oscar Wilde_

* * *

><p>Translations<p>

Ohayogozaimasu- Good morning

Gomen nasai- sorry

Yoroshiku onegai shimasu- I'm looking forward to working with you.

Doitashimashite- It's a pleasure

Kore douzo.- This is for you.

When giving a gift to your close friend or other informal occasions, "Kore douzo" will do.

Tsumaranai mono desu ga-Here is something for you. This is a humble expression, more formal.


	4. Remember me

_My dream is of a place and a time where America will once again be seen as the last best hope of earth._

_Abraham Lincoln _

* * *

><p>Remember me<p>

Now, I wasn't always a paranoid person. The people flooding in from the other side of the world used to fascinate me. They actually looked like me for one, and they brought all sorts of things that I'd never imagined in my wildest dreams. Before, the earth took care of itself, and I was just fine letting the tree be a tree and having the water flow where it may. Then, I had to meet Arthur. Let's skip past the whole sweet kid and loving brother history to present day, I swear he's annoying me on purpose. He stomped over to my room, knocked very loudly and shouted my name at the top of his lungs on a Saturday at eight a.m. This wouldn't matter much on a weekday, but I don't have much planned for today, sleeping in would have been nice. I've been awake for a good thirty minutes now, taking my sweet time getting up simply because I can, (annoying Arthur is a plus.)This doesn't last long as I smell breakfast. Meaningless quips aside, Arthur can make breakfast. So, I begrudgingly get dressed. Downstairs, I almost let out a gripe about my rude awakening, but it dies in my throat.

"Matt?" I said, the shock taking over my senses for a minute. We've talked a few times recently as the war's results have become hard for me to ignore, but it's by no means a normal occurrence for him to drop by.

"Hey, "Canada said, focusing on his plate. Like last time there is an awkward silence, we really only have two topics that we can readily think of when looking at each other, both involve war. Our last spat doesn't matter as much now that time has passed, and we've seen each other face to face. The other issue will determine if we will be at each other throats once more or continue to coexist peacefully. Because of this, there is a vacuum that invokes silence as any little thing could set us off like a match too close to the gasoline tank, (and there is plenty of fuel.) As a result, there hasn't been much progress. At our previous meeting, I had made due with talking non-stop about how good the pancakes were instead of talking about the real issue. Canada no doubt wants to try again.

England has gone all out on breakfast. He's cooked eggs, bacon, toast, and even black pudding. (It's an acquired taste, but I'm used to it.) There's already a glass of orange juice waiting for me. He's spoiling me, but I know better than to bring it up. Besides, he could use more food in his belly. I doubt he ate much at home, and only since we've come to my place has his appetite returned, perhaps because he knows we have the extra food to spare.

I don't sit down right away as I look Canada over. He's taken off his fedora and he's wearing his black suit and red tie today. I'm wearing navy blue; otherwise, you wouldn't be able to tell us apart at first glance. There are two subtle differences in our appearance that helps. His eyes are violet and mine are blue, and he has a loose curl sticking out of his hair while I have a cowlick that stubbornly stays up. This doesn't stop England from losing track of who is who most of the time. Usually, it's Canada who gets mistaken for me. We don't really know why it only seems to work this way, and I think we're both too scared to ask. I readjust my tie. I probably shouldn't have picked the tie with the pin up girl on it, but I hadn't planned on any visitors today, and I don't particularly care what England thinks of it. Canada's looking at me though, not my tie. He never did answer my letter. I'm nervous and want to know his response already. England's hasn't sensed the mood.

"Sit down and eat breakfast, America," England said, pulling out a chair for me. I go ahead and take a seat. He sits down between us and that's just as well. We need something else to stare at. The styles are so similar this decade that we all look alike. The only real differences are the ties and that England prefers top hats instead of fedoras. I move my eggs around my plate, and don't look at any of them. We haven't eaten together in a very long time. I feel like a sentimental old fool.

"Why didn't you tell me Matthew was here?" I asked because I would have come down a lot quicker if I'd known. England's passive as he takes a drink of his orange juice.

"I tried," England said as if yelling like a maniac in the morning to wake me up is normal. It is, I probably would still be asleep if he'd knocked softly.

"Right," I said, deciding it isn't worth fighting about; for all I know, Scotland used to do the same thing to him. No one talks for a while, and I don't feel like carrying the conversation. I'd had to do so with Japan, and even then, there had been stretches of silence. I will enjoy the quiet while it lasts.

"So, how have you been?" Canada asked me, and I automatically think of the stressful foreign relations negotiations I had to put up with lately. I kind of miss my isolationism streak. I don't really want to get into it right now.

"Fine," I said, and Canada frowns at the short answer. What? Did he expect to spill my guts and breakdown? He already knows what he needs to. We're eating, but we are also observing each other. We can't talk casually yet, not really. So, we are guessing what the other is thinking. England coughs to get our attention. We both jump a little. I forgot he was there.

"I think there is something we are all avoiding, but please, talk about something," England said, pleading to us both with his eyes. He was all alone during the air raids. Silence is not something he can bare. Talking isn't usually a problem for me, and there is certainly a need to. To England, it is reassuring and familiar. As kids, Canada and I used to talk nonsensically over every little thing. For Canada, it is a sign that we are ready to move on. The pressure to say something intensifies; I ignore it. I'll just say the wrong thing. Unfortunately, England seems adamant about this as if some old instinct to have us get along has returned. He hasn't stopped watching us, and I know Canada won't try to speak again; it's my turn. Well, I know one thing that won't lead to an argument as pathetic as it is.

"I like the pancakes you served last time," I said which elicits the reaction I want. Canada smiles, but there is a "You're hopeless," undertone to it. England's response is less positive as he throws down his fork defiantly and scowls.

"Besides pancakes, Alfred," he said, but I can't bring myself to ask the question that needs an answer soon. I want things to stay quiet and peaceful between us, even if the rest of the world seems to be fighting each other. I take a bite out of my toast to bide my time, and the crunching sound that follows pervades the air. Arthur sighs and deflates instead of pushing the matter. He takes a drink of his juice, and by Canada's sudden frown, he has noticed Arthur's lack of ambition and fire as well. I think it might be broken beyond repair.

"I . . . I'm glad you're okay England. When I heard about the invasion . . . I," Canada said, approaching dangerous territory. An invasion alludes to war, talking about war will lead him to alliances and the topic will presumably shift to where I stand.

"Thank you, Matthew, but let's talk of happier things," England says, eyes on me before concentrating on his black pudding. Perhaps, he wants to shut out thoughts of perpetual torment and lost hope or he simply noticed the look of horror on my face and decided to change the subject. Still, this is the first time we've managed to get this far. I think the time for quiet is over. As much as I hate to continue, another meeting may pass without anything getting resolved otherwise.

"You mean the stuff that's not important," I said, and the words sound harsher than I mean them to. I don't mean to be cruel about the matter. Everything sounds trivial when one considers what's happening on the other side of the world. There is an agonizing urgency in deciding what to do next, and yet, we're all frozen in place. Usually, there's a strength to Arthur's perpetual denial, but today, I can't stand it.

"America," England snapped at me for speaking so rudely, but I'm tired of not saying what I mean. Yes, we're having issues. Yes, I've been a coward about facing them. No, it isn't the time to forget about it. Honestly, I don't want our meeting to be unbearably stuffy and formal like it has to be with everyone else. Like it or not, anything one of us does will affect the other. I've put Canada in a bind, and we both know it, what remains to be seen is if he'll hate me for it.

"No, he has a point England, but I think we should finish eating before discussing anything," Canada said grimly if accepting of my outburst. He's twirling his knife around, and something slips out, not akin to malice but to light joking. No one takes it as a joke.

"Yeah, I suppose we should avoid having sharp objects around," I said, and suddenly, it's as if we're back in the inferno that first wedged us apart, or I guess, since I started it, that made the split worse. England has grown cold at the idle comment, shaking his head. Canada's patient though. He may no longer want to look at me, but he only seems the tiniest bit disappointed. Or Hurt? Sad? I can't know for sure.

"I don't hate you, Alfred. It was complicated. You know that," he said as his naturally soft voice adds a sincere quality to it.

"I know," I said, feeling as stuck on the past as the old man. It is a stupid thing to bring up. I can't say that I wasn't brash back then or that I didn't make the situation worse. At the time, it really seemed unnatural to me that our opinions should differ. Despite our temperaments, we'd lived harmoniously. We were one part of a whole, and Britain was the one that didn't belong. A sudden depression entered the room and all communication is lost. England's downing the juice as if its alcohol while Canada's chewing slower than usual. I don't really feel hungry anymore, but I don't want to start a serious talk right after mentioning that. It's guaranteed not to go well. So, I grab some more eggs and bacon.

The supply of food dwindles fast, and I have another ten, twenty minutes tops before we have to talk business. I need something, anything to get us past the awkwardness. What's the most harmless thing to say right now? Something we both cared about. Let's see. I've already exhausted the food avenue. I can't talk about the past after what happened a few minutes ago. Still, there is one thing that hasn't changed from back then, probably.

"Do you still have the polar bear?" I asked, and Matt reflexively jerks back in his chair at the disruption before collecting himself. He appreciates the effort enough to attempt a smile, but we're not in synch and haven't been for a long time. The gesture is empty. Nothing has changed.

"It's technically an animal spirit but yeah," he corrects me. The spirit has been around for a long time so it's pretty obvious, but Kuma does look like a damn polar bear. You can so tell he's Arthur's kid when he corrects silly things like that.

"Cool," I say anyway. I'm trying to be pleasant after all. England has finished eating but sticks around since we've started communicating again. He rolls his eyes at our small talk as if he's never resorted to such mundane conversation. I still remember him having similar talks with France, albeit it deteriorated to fighting right away. I hope that won't be the case with us.

"Do you still have the rabbit?" he asked, bothering to look at me instead of his food. He flinches when he sees a dark look cross my face. I know this sounds like a reasonable thing to ask after the polar bear incident. However, he has no idea what's he's just done to me. I loved that bunny. He followed me everywhere. Then, I left him with Arthur for a few hours while I played outside, and it's gone. He never told me why.

"Yeah, apparently it's green and flies now," I said smartly with a big grin on my face so Matthew can brush off what he saw a few seconds ago. England's been fidgeting since the bunny was mentioned. I knew he was guilty. The nervousness quickly shifts into indignant disbelief. He grits his teeth as he turns the edge his cup with his fingers.

"For the last time Alfred, I didn't kill your bunny," he said, collecting the empty plates and cups. Oh, yes, I'm sure that's true. It's been several hundred years. Why hasn't he ever told me what happened to it then? I would understand if it ran away or something, but no, he's never said anything of the sort. It has to be denial.

"Why else would a green floating rabbit thing haunt you?" I said, raising my arms and wiggling my fingers. Canada has put his head down on the table in defeat. Arthur turns on the water to wash the plates and grins coyly.

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," he announced, and I can't think of anything to say for a few seconds before coming up with a decent excuse.

"I believe you're guilt ridden enough to make up a flying mint bunny," I say, pointing my nose up in the air. As he scrubs away the food bits, he takes a deep breath.

"Your bunny ran away," he murmured, and it still sounds like there is something he's not saying. Canada looks up curiously.

"Liar," I said, and Arthur lets the cup slide from his hand in frustration. Canada removes his head from the table. He straightens himself and puts his hand to his forehead in utter dismay.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," he muttered, and I finally understand that he doesn't get this is quite normal between us now, ( not bringing up the dead bunny but the fighting.) The last normal interactions he witnessed between us had been during my colonial days, and we were always civil and overall a delight to be around. That's not really possible anymore; Matt will just have to get used to this new way of existing.

"Don't worry about it Mattie," I said, and the silence stretches on, and we are holding onto our last bit of breakfast, unsure how to proceed. It's the slowest breakfast I've ever experienced. England's given up being the parental figure and is drying the plates. Matt finishes his toast. There is no food left on his plate and nothing to replace it with. I finish the last of my eggs. It's time.

"I like your tie," Canada said, and my shoulders relax a little at the affirmation. I hold it up and take a look at it. I like the way she smiles, and I hope to find a real version of it someday. It's a trivial dream.

"Thanks, I've always liked blonds," I said, and I have given him enough information to start a decent conversation. England glances at the two of us as he starts stacking plates, somewhat amused by our interaction.

"Papa, says that too, but he always looked sad after he said it," Canada said, looking to the sky. Arthur almost drops one of the plates and clears his throat.

"Well, I do believe that you two need some space. I'll be upstairs if you need anything," Arthur said, returning to his crocheting. He seems to be making winter clothes. I don't blame him for wanting to avoid being part of this particular conversation. Still, it is only one incident of their many, many fights. All together, they are equally destructive to each other. This happens to be one of the incidents that hit the Frenchman the hardest, and Francis is in a precarious situation as it is at the moment.

"So, Canada, have you decided what to do?" There, I said it. Canada sucks in a breath. He is staring at the tie, and gradually, he makes the journey to my eyes. The gaze is hopeful, and the dread returns. Please don't say it, Mattie.

"I want to help France, but I can't do it alone. I need you to back me up," he said, pausing often as he measures my reaction. The look on my face can be read in a single word, Damn. I make my face become passive and decide to continue our not so neutral position when it comes to these things.

"I'll send you supplies, and you can fight on your own," I say, and I do not expect Canada to explode like a sudden blizzard. He stands so he can look down on me. I feel the cold.

"We all know how well that turned out for England," he said, and it's like he's punched me in the stomach. I did everything that I could; I did.

"I can't do anything else for you. Actually, I'm not even supposed to do that much,"I said which is completely true, and I knew it might come to this when I read that condition in the treaty. Would it kill him to be grateful for sticking my neck out that much? He knows that the smallest thing can set a war into motion. It's something hotly debated by my people. Canada nods, but there is a touch insanity to his eyes as he starts to speak.

"There is that thing we've been working on," he said, and I know exactly what he means. We haven't made much progress with the A-bombs yet; they're duds. It also seems pathetic to use it on a war-torn Germany, especially when his soldiers are in England. Even though, I am trying to get them out as quickly as I can.

"It's not ready, and even if it was, I'd rather not," I said, and it's as if I've struck him. He has narrowed his eyes, and the fire has returned. It's all the more disconcerting after the cold. My loyalty has come into question because I won't help my poor little brother. The situation isn't so simple as that, but I still hate that look, even back then.

"What's the point of being free if you never do anything?" he said, deliberately chocking my philosophical core. After all the careful planning and successful negotiation, I hate that he has a point. My options have become less and less obvious as the time goes on, layers and layers of chains restrain me with every promise I make. Still, I have no delusions that war helps anything. The treaty of Versailles proves that. I refused to acknowledge that pitiful excuse for a treaty.

"Canada, I simply do not want war. That is my choice," I said with clear resolve, and his eyes widen, expecting quite a different reaction after his accusation, but it only fuels the fire.

"You don't care about anyone but yourself," he hisses, and I can't help but add to the hostility. That's rich. I enter a war, which has little to do with me, help win said war with the idea of bringing world peace afterward. What does it lead to? Another freaking war.

"I find it funny that you actually want my help now when you've always refused it," I said, and believe me, I was quite adamant about it. However, Canada is the good son, and waited and waited, until it was no longer financially feasible or desirable for Britain to keep him. Is it so wrong that I bide my time as well? The time to act isn't when the enemy is at their strongest and acts as a united front. They will fragment and splinter. I simply have to wait and hope that the opportunity to help France will come.

"This is different. It's affecting everyone," Canada said, and he has just proven my point without realizing it. If everyone is hard pressed with their own problems, even with my resources and my boys, it won't be enough.

"Exactly, I can't save everyone, not by myself," I said, and Canada's position weakens with my honesty. He furrows his brows and frowns, picking up Kumajiro.

"I said I'd help you," he said, and I've been worked up to a frenzy. I don't hesitate to go negative.

"Aren't most of your soldiers sitting on their asses because of conscription?" I said because how can he expect me to risk my boys when he won't risk his, hypocrite. They are a waste of resources, appropriately nicknamed zombies.

"I can get more," he said, and I don't like the sound of that. Inexperienced cannon fodder can only get us so far, and I don't see enough of a reason to give in. So, it's time to compromise.

"Look. We can talk to Germany. Maybe we can work something out," I said, knowing he's been vacationing in Paris since England was invaded. Japan said he was in a particularly good mood, now would be as good a time as any to ask. While it doesn't completely sit well with Canada, his strengths rely more on politics than war. He scolds Kuma for pawing his curl. As he holds the bears paw, he thinks deeply.

"Okay, Alfred, we'll try it your way for now," he said reluctantly. I blink a few times. I did it. I was so worried Canada would drag the war into this hemisphere, but he is at least willing to try it my way.

"You know what this means right?" I said, sporting a full on grin. Canada tilts his head in confusion. Kuma chews on his hair curl. Matt glares at him and confiscates it.

"What?" he said, smoothing the curl and flicking the saliva off his hand. I put my hands on my hips.

"Since I'm being less hostile than you, I'm more Canadian than you are,"I said with a puffed up chest. Matt doesn't take the accusation well as his glare turns acidic when he puts Kuma down. I expect a few kiddy blows, but too late, I realize that he means to hit me hard.

"Shut up," he said at normal volume and punches me in the stomach. I hold my wounded middle tenderly as I lay on the floor. I shouldn't have left my front exposed. Still, he offers his hand to help me up, and I gladly accept it.

Getting a meeting with Germany proved more difficult that I originally imagined, for one thing, I was kind of hoping to jump on a plane and make our demands. We had to schedule a meeting time a week in advance which wasn't entirely a bad thing. The next week for a lack of a better word, I'll call quality family time. Canada stayed with us; so we all reminisced and fought. Canada learned to hit harder and join in on the petty squabbles that England and I got into. I learned to crochet upon Matt and Arthur persistence. Kumajiro got a new hat. Still, the time came to go to the airport and try to negotiate France's release.

"Alfred, why are you walking ten times faster than normal," Canada said, finding it difficult to catch up because of jet lag. I signaled for him to hurry up. We had to get there on time. If we didn't, Germany wouldn't listen to anything we had to say.

"Ludwig insisted on meeting us at five at the old school building," I said, and Canada nodded, relieved when we got into a carriage. There didn't seem to be any cars anywhere. Bikes and carriages were the main mode of transport here with only the occasional car passing through. More often than not, they were military vehicles. I turned to the driver of the carriage hoping to get a better idea of the situation. So far, it all seemed fairly okay in Paris.

"Bounjour, comment allez-vouz?" I asked, and the driver smiled, but kept his attention on the road.

"Je vais bien, but there is no need for you to speak French. I was specifically chosen to take you because I can speak English," he informed me which was just fine, even if both Canada and I could speak French. It annoyed the hell out of Arthur when we would talk like that in front of him.

"Ah, then if you don't mind, could you tell me the situation in Paris?" I asked, and luckily, he didn't clam up in response. He slowed the horses down which is not what I wanted when we dangerously close to being late. However, the information he had could prove useful.

"Paris is still Paris. Food may be scarce but with enough Francs or stuff to trade one can get by with little difficulty," he said, patting his stomach for emphasis.

"Pauvre Pappa, he must be hungry," Matthew said idly as he looks at the empty shops, either shut down so Germany could have more supplies for his troops or because they simply had nothing left to sell. The German troops walked freely along with the citizens with only a few of them in actual formations.

"What of the soldiers?" I asked, and this did take the man a while to answer.

"It's a little like having a pack of German tourists in the city every day. They buy things freely and see the sights when not on duty. They behave when here. As citizens, we have little to complain of in that regard, " he said, sounding hesitant to say such things to me. The news did dampen my want to liberate Paris so soon. They could survive a while more, and it seemed that the Germans treated them with a level of respect not always present in the nations they conquered. ( I only have rumors to go on in that regard.)

"I see," I said as I can't help but notice a swarm of French girls talking amiably to a few German troops at a café. The driver noticed.

"Do not judge us too harshly for surviving. As long as we have a bite to eat and have some level of freedom, we are content," he said, and I started to question that word. Free-dom, what did it mean anymore? I nodded all the same, and he quickened his pace as he noticed the time. We'd have to make a mad dash to the door.

"What do you think Canada?" I asked in a low murmur. Canada hugged Kuma harder, subconsciously garnering strength from the action.

"Pappa's city is empty, but the people do not seem to mind," he admitted. We didn't say anything more until we arrived.

I grabbed Matt's hand and dragged us to Germany's office. I knock, and Germany opens the door. I go in first as I figure I would be the oldest if one went by our respective political consciousness and not when we were first populated. Matt followed behind me.

"Herr ambassador Jones, I am glad to finally meet Japan's friend face to face. It will be a pleasure conducting business with you" he said as we shook. So, he recognizes me as the more important party because of my relations with Japan in this situation. I should do most of the talking then. He moved on so he could confront Canada.

"Herr, ambassador Williams, I am glad we can resolve our past differences today" he said, shaking his hand. Canada nodded, and Germany moved to his chair.

"Please sit," he said as he takes out some papers we had sent him a few days before. Once we are seated, he addresses the reason we are all here.

"I see from the papers you have sent that you both wish to discuss my current occupation of France. Once we have finished discussing this matter, you are free to leave, Mr. Jones. Then, Mr. Williams and I will settle a peace agreement," he said, and we both nodded. He looked up from the papers and gave me his full attention.

"Now, what do you believe should be done about the situation Mr. Jones?" he asked, and I decided that it was best to start out with the best case scenario.

"The war has officially ended. As a token of good will, we would like you to leave so France can begin to recover," I said, knowing that Germany may take issue with letting France recover when he was given no such favor.

"I'm afraid that is impossible Mr. Jones. The supplies Monsieur Bonnefoy provides are still needed, and we have allowed him to continue running his own government. I do not see why you take issue with the present circumstances," he said, and from what I heard from England, he did not trust the Vichy government. I wasn't sure that I trusted it either, but now, wasn't the time to discuss that.

"Very well, then, I would like to suggest that steps be taken to redistribute resources as your difficulties elsewhere lessen. I would also like the eventual removal of your troops. On a more personal note, we would like the opportunity to visit France and Francis Bonnefoy as we see fit without soldiers present," I said. Germany considered me a moment with a critical eye. I could see that there was a level of distrust to his gaze.

"All of this, does seem fairly reasonable, however, France's eventual release cannot be guaranteed. I would be happy to grant you access to France and Francis provided that you follow through with you agreements, Mr. Jones," he said, still somewhat sour from our skirmishes at sea. Like freedom, the meaning of neutrality can be twisted. He did not wish for such leeway to be present this time.

"Of course," I said, and Germany nodded, satisfied by the quick response. He turned his attention to Canada.

"Is there something else you wish to bring up Mr. Williams?" he asked, and I could not see what else we could possibly ask for at this point.

"I would like France's art returned in good condition, and something to be done to relieve the hunger caused by rationing," he said, and we both avoided starting at Raphael's portrait of a young man stolen from Poland above Germany's head. Germany nodded gravely.

"The process of returning paintings to a place of safety has already begun. Unfortunately, some soldiers did place such art in unwise locations and are in need of repair. If either of you has any art restores willing to help, I would be grateful for the added expertise," he said and we both nodded, and I noted he never said the paintings would be returned to their rightful place, only salvaged.

"As for the food rationing, I will do my best to lessen restrictions as conditions stabilize," Germany said before returning his attention to me.

"You may leave now Mr. Jones. I do hope both you and your brother will join me for dinner at my house so I may get to know the kind of men you are," he offered and shook my hand.

"Yes, I will be sure to come. If you don't mind, can you tell me where I may find Mr Bonnefoy ?" I asked, and a trace of sadness crossed his face before becoming stern once more.

"You may find him at the Louvre looking upon a fallen angel," he said, and I do not like the sound of that.

"Thank you, Mr. Beilschmidt," I said and make my way to the Louvre. I take my time getting there, observing France getting by as best they could. The soldiers are barely acknowledged, and France's complicated fashions reduced to simply acquired things like flowers. Still, I eventually arrive and am directed to Francis location. The museum is vast, but my goal is not to observe the artwork that remains on display. I find my way into the recesses of the museum to a deserted corner where a desolate room lies filled with statues and artifacts, most of which are draped in plastic. Among this graveyard, there is a large space where a broken statue is neatly organized by its broken parts, and some blond man cries openly near its remains. A few parts are recognizable such as the fragmented pieces of the wings although the man has yet to determine if the parts are from the left or right wing. The angel's draped body is so broken apart that a few pieces might be mistaken for ordinary rock if seen outside. Still, as I looked at this old nation whom I'd never seen so distraught, I cannot help but think this is but a small token to cry over. It can't be more important than his people and their situation, yet the tears are for this angel alone.

"Why does it make you cry?"I asked, and the bearded man looks up slowly, cradling a large piece of the broken wing. There is recognition of who I am in his blue eyes of which he always compared to mine in front of Arthur, in the early days, when all you had to worry about was muskets and bayonets. I think he may have whispered my name but I'm not sure. Finally, after a period of silence, he gingerly returns the wing to the broken pile.

"So you understand, it is my burnt capitol," he said, and he really need not explain further, the moment I saw the white house burn was the moment when every single doubt that I ever had flooded me ten fold, a moment of utter despair. So in this old relic, he had pinned as much emotional significance as I had in my white house.

"Oh," I mouth as I understood this was a private moment I had interrupted. I would have left without another word if Francis had not spoken.

"Please, if you cannot save me, save my art," he said, and this surprises me. Matthew had mentioned this first and foremost in his demands. It is not something I would have given priority over his release. Yet, it seemed Canada understood his Pappa much more than I did.

"Why? Why not something-" I said unable to grasp the significance of it, yet Dolly had done the same hadn't she? There had to be a reason that went beyond appreciating the beauty of the work.

"If there was but one American flag left, would you not save it?" he said, and the question hit me hard. Of course, I would. I am much more attached and respectful of my flag than most other countries were. My pride, my love, my entire being could be presented in this one little thing. I would risk everything for such an important part of myself.

"I - I understand now. These paintings, these sculptures, even the ones left behind by others, they're your hope," I said. Francis nods and smiles, stroking part of the fallen wing. He looks up, wiping the tears from his eyes and growing serious.

"Oui, but I must ask you one more favor," he said, and I couldn't help but associate it with my previous encounters with England and Canada. Everyone always wanted favors.

"Anything that won't bring me to the front lines," I said, and France shakes his head and chuckles softly. So, he is not after my blood.

"Amérique, we're close to assimilation, to a sort of peace with the Germans," He paused as if debating telling me something and deciding against it. That single moment will keep me up and pile together with the rest of the surprising normalcy of the Parisian day to day life. I don't know. I always assumed that my path would remain clear, and that evil and wrong doing would be easy to see, but I only see people living as if the German occupation doesn't exist, the same as England's people do. I should be happy that it's not as horrifying as Matthew and I feared, and yet, there is something I don't trust about this peace.

"And that is very frightening," He looks down to the German flag pinned to his suit, and there is a swift and crucial pain that stirs within me at that. How would I feel so many years ago now had my "Big Brother" done the same to me? Burned away everything that I stood for, what I believed in and stuck his British flag on my shores, once more, as if I didn't exist. Behind the hate, I would feel hollow, and what makes it all the worse for France is that in his own way, he brought this on himself. He didn't deserve the theft of his culture, the extortion of his people, but he pushed Germany to hate him as he did. Francis blamed him for everything and charged him with an insane amount of money in reparations because he could, and now, Germany would curse him with the same resolve.

"You and Matthieu stick together. Do not let him go to war. I am touched that he thinks of me and my oppression, but I do not want him to suffer as I have," It had become clear from my previous talk with Germany that they could not liberate France with words, too much animosity remained for that. Canada, would either have to fall in line with him and attempt slow negotiations armed with economic pressures or tote a gun once more for one of his dear parental figures. Sometimes Matt truly helped too much. That's why I'm the brat of the family. I see how self destructive getting too deep into familial relationships can be. And yet, I very much doubt France should worry so, a good chunk of Canada's trained army is stuck in limbo because of ill-advised mercy brought on by the conscription crisis. Home service, (pfft), really, if they volunteered, they should fight. It's a luxury Canada could not afford while at war, but I understand not wanting to be split apart. So, I can't blame him for making such concessions. Not that it matters anymore, he's having his own talks with Germany now. I'll be sure to give him France's wishes.

"Good Luck America, if there is any good future left, it lies with you and Canada," And Mexico and South America, the Monroe Doctrine spells it out pretty clearly. I leave France to mourn over part of his crushed soul and go to Germany's house.

* * *

><p><em>Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.<em>

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

><p>Translations:<p>

Bounjour, Comment allez-vouz?: Hello, how are you?

Je vais bien: I am fine

Pauvre Pappa: Poor dad

Herr: Mr.

Oui: Yes

_I've had about half of this written for months. I was extremely nervous about the Germany part, but I went ahead and wrote him as he might act at a business meeting. So, I apologize if he comes across as too stiff or flat. I also thank the person who brought the Manhattan project to my attention as it wasn't something I was considering before then. It is a big Chevok's gun to introduce, but I think I know when it will become a pertinent issue at this point. I will be taking my time with this fic as I have a lot to consider in the coming months. (Although since summer is coming up, I will be writing more often, most likely.) So if I am not active at all in my fiction, Hetalia or otherwise, please know, it will be because of real life issues rather than me giving up on it. I do recommend you put this on alert if you're interested in it as I'm working on several fan fictions at once. Lastly, I do realize that many of you are in different time zones, but do review if you can to let me know people are reading this and how you feel about the chapters._

_Until next Chapter_


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